I took the microphone.
The music swelled again, and the guests began to turn toward the aisle. Someone signaled for me to stand. Maribel approached, her voice urgent.
"Smile," he whispered. "We'll sort it out later."
I moved away from her and walked toward the microphone. My shoes were clicking too loudly on the grass. The officiant bowed.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
I took the microphone. The courtyard fell silent, the chairs creaked as people leaned forward.
"You're embarrassing me."
"Before I do this," I said, "I need to explain why my daughter wasn't in her seat."
Some people chuckled unsurely. Maribel stood behind me with an icy smile and frightened eyes.
I continued: "Juniper was told to sit on the bathroom floor and keep a secret from me."
The silence fell like a heavy blanket. Someone whispered, "What?", as if the word could undo it.
Maribel hissed, "Grant, stop. You're embarrassing me."
I turned my head slightly. "I'm protecting my son," I said, and looked back at the crowd. "Junie, can you come here?"
I crouched down with the microphone down.
Juniper left the house, holding my brother's hand. She looked tiny among all those faces watching her. My chest hurt so much it felt like a bruise.
I crouched down with the microphone low. "Tell me what he said," I said gently.
Juniper swallowed. "She said I ruined everything," she said clearly. "She said if I tell you what I saw, you'll choose me and she'll lose."
A murmur rippled through the guests. Maribel's smile faltered.
Juniper pressed on, resolute, as if she had mentally rehearsed it. "He was in your office last night. He took papers from the blue folder."
"Pass me your bag."
Maribel laughed, curtly and insincerely. "She's nine years old," she said. "She's jealous. She's imagining things."
Juniper looked up and met her gaze. "I counted," she said. "Three papers. Put them in your bag."
Maribel's face went blank. "Stop," she snapped, feeling the sweetness vanish. I stood up slowly.
—Maribel —I said—, pass me your bag.
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"Give it to me," I repeated.
She tried to walk past me towards the door.
Maribel stepped back. "No. You're not humiliating me."
"You humiliated my daughter," I said firmly. I looked at my brother. "Call the police. And a locksmith."
My brother hesitated for half a second and then pulled out his phone. Maribel's voice jumped out.
"Seriously?" she snapped. "You can't do this to me in front of everyone!"
"You did it in front of everyone," I said. "The moment you decided my daughter belonged on the bathroom floor."
She tried to walk past me toward the door. The officiant stepped in front of her without touching her. Maribel glared at him.
Her face changed again.
"Move it," she said.
Juniper shuddered, small and immediate. That shudder burned inside me.
Maribel turned to me, gritting her teeth. "You think you're some kind of widowed hero," she whispered. "I'm the only reason you're not drowning."
My hands were shaking, but my voice remained steady. "My daughter kept me alive," I said. "You didn't."
Maribel blurted out, so loudly that it could be heard throughout the courtyard: "Well, marry your daughter then!"
A collective gasp rippled through the chairs. Telephones were raised. Maribel saw them and paled.
I stared at her. "Stay away from my daughter," I said.
When the police arrived, the atmosphere changed drastically.
Her face changed again, and tears welled up quickly. "Grant, please," she pleaded. "I was helping. I was organizing. I was thinking about our future."
I held out my hand to Juniper. "Come here," I said.
Juniper ran to my side and took my hand. Her small, sweaty grip held mine. When the police arrived, the atmosphere changed drastically.
